Bloodlust
by Mahla
Summary: The Family must die and Lucien Lachance is feeling nervous... Slash. Leaves a lot to your imagination. Oneshot.


Lucien kept pacing to and fro in his hideout in Fort Farragut. His heart was pounding notably fast, which he was really uncomfortable with – he wasn't used to being nervous. He hated being nervous because he was never nervous, ever. He had been through a lot, seen quite a bit of the world and done things some might have hard time thinking about without passing out, but he... he had been there, done that, and seen it all. And yet now, at this moment, he felt nervous.

And that itself was enough to make him restless.

They would have to die. His Family was going to have to die. All of them. Lucien knew it was the only option and that the ritual was as ancient as the Brotherhood, but still... He knew he was supposed to ignore the howling pain somewhere deep in his heart and concentrate on his work. He wasn't supposed to fret and worry about the lives of those who had a traitor amongst them.

That, in a nutshell, was the reason for his unheard-of nervousness. The traitor. He didn't know who it was – of course he didn't, otherwise the traitor would be a problem no longer – and neither did anyone else. The orders had been clear: the Cheydinhal sanctuary must be purified and blood must be spilt. Lucien was to give the contract to his newest Silencer, who would carry out the ritual. Simple. There were risks, of course there were, but it had to be done. The Silencer would be the one to do it and matters would start clearing up. Obeying orders was crucial at this stage.

The traitor was indeed the source of Lucien's current mood, but the closest reason for his nervous state was that he had disobeyed. He had disobeyed the orders and it made him anxious. Doubt gnawed at his mind. He wasn't really sure how he felt but he knew he didn't want to dig too deep into his mind at the moment. The truth was that he had disobeyed and that's that. What consequences it might have was a mystery to him and a big factor for his nervousness.

And now the traitor might be on his way to Farragut. Lucien had contacted someone from the Cheydinhal sanctuary, and he really shouldn't have done so.

Lucien sat down on a chair and got up almost instantly – he couldn't stay in one place for more than a second. He resumed to his pacing and started almost to regret his actions. And yet... he was looking forward to it. He wasn't sure why he had called _him_ and what he was going to say when he came, but it had seemed like a reasonable thing to do the moment he had done it – the moment of fleeting panic, worry and ache. And what was done was done. And he was coming.

He had tried to reason with himself and sort out his mixed feelings, mostly in vain. He knew only that he _cared_, and that would've been enough for some – but not for him. He wanted to know _why_. Why he cared? It couldn't be right. All feelings had had to be cast aside when the order for Purification came. And he had tried to, he really had, but obviously he had failed. And he hated failing. He was so used to winning.

Lucien heard movement in the room and when he turned around he saw Vicente standing there, red eyes flickering in the candle light. Lucien's face lacked expression as he nodded at him.

"You asked me to come, brother", Vicente said and came closer without any hesitation. He had been there before and he had known Lucien ever since the man had joined the Brotherhood – and that seemed so little while ago to Vicente although a long time had passed since then.

"Yes", Lucien said and stood rigidly in his place. What was he going to say? He couldn't warn him, he couldn't tell him like he had told all his other worries he needed to get out of his mind... he couldn't this time. Which, he thought grimly, was probably the last time.

Vicente kept looking at him calmly and courteously. Although Lucien was his closest Family member he respected the position he held and never violated that respect in any way. He was the Speaker and he should speak when he so wished – it was not Vicente's place to ask him questions he might not want to hear. Yet he sensed that Lucien was deeply troubled, more troubled than he had ever been, because this time he had a hard time concealing it.

"You are, of course, aware of the rumors about a traitor among us?" Lucien said in his typical, cold manner. Vicente nodded. Of course.

"And you... are aware that something has to be done about it", Lucien continued. He wasn't sure where he was going with all this, he knew he shouldn't warn Vicente and yet that's what he was almost doing – he was so close to it that he could've just said it aloud, Vicente was going to guess it anyway.

"I am", Vicente said. "It is true, then?" Lucien raised his brows gently and Vicente continued: "Is there any idea who the traitor might be?"

Lucien narrowed his eyes and glanced sharply at Vicente.

"Well, you see, brother", Lucien said and approached the vampire with returning malice and confidence, "everyone is, of course, under suspicion. Everyone." He stopped right in front of Vicente and stared him deep in the eyes. Vicente raised his brows.

"Of course", the vampire said but Lucien was sure he noticed uncertainty and fear in Vicente's eyes.

And he was right. Vicente was slightly uncertain and fearful. He feared that the doubts were on him. He wasn't afraid of the punishment if he was considered a traitor, his life had been long enough already, but the shame of being thought of as the one who had betrayed the Brotherhood felt unbearable. But he knew the procedure in this kind of a situation. The Purification was not alien to him. He knew that things were drifting towards that solution and he thought it was a great shame. And he guessed Lucien knew the date, the Purifier, everything.

Lucien kept staring at him, uncertain of what to say or what to do. Vicente was his friend. That much he at least had to admit to himself. He was an old friend, a supporter, a rock. Vicente was well familiar with the Brotherhood and he knew Lucien well. Perhaps too well. And soon he was going to die. The Silencer would come tomorrow.

Something of this inner pondering reflected itself in Lucien's eyes and Vicente noticed it. He was puzzled by the strange look of Lucien's usually merciless eyes and he wondered what was going on in his head. That he had wondered for as long as he had known him, actually, but this time it was different. Vicente wanted to ask him, wanted him to tell him, he wanted to help. He had grown fond of the man during the long years they had known each other, very fond indeed – more than Vicente dared to admit to himself. Unlike Lucien, Vicente had dug deep into his own thoughts and sorted out what he was able to, and it had been unsettling. Vicente knew how he felt about Lucien but tried not to think of it. It was... forbidden.

"It's time for the Purification, isn't it?" Vicente said quietly, still looking at the Speaker. Lucien's face was blank for a moment but then he gathered himself and smiled a little.

"Ah", Lucien said. "That you cannot know. And that I cannot tell. You know it as well as I do."

"Why did you call me here?" Vicente asked with an almost sad look in his eyes. Lucien licked his lips and said nothing for a while. Vicente kept looking at him and searching his eyes.

"Because", Lucien said then, sternly, sure of himself – until he saw Vicente's sad expression and fell silent. He stared angrily at him. He saw right through him, didn't he? Bloody vampire, he knew him too well indeed.

They held each others' eyes for a long time and tried to figure out what the other was thinking. Vicente knew what he was thinking. Lucien's eyes seemed so soft at that moment – a characteristic not often seen in him in any way – and his face was so familiar, so dear. Lucien saw the vampire's suffering expression and at that very moment he understood. He seemed to know how he felt, how they both felt – and it annoyed him greatly. And yet he could not let his gaze fall.

There are moments in life, those moments when everything else seems to disappear and when certain things seem right to do – and Vicente saw his time come. He leaned his head forward and tried to press his lips on Lucien's neck – not to bite, but it had been so long since he had kissed anyone and the times he had sucked blood were so numerous that the neck seemed like a natural place for such and action.

Lucien, how ever, was faster than him. He grabbed the vampire's face with his hand and bent his head away from his neck, forcing him to look him in the eyes. And Lucien smiled his usual, cold smile.

"Don't think I'm going to let a vampire place his mouth anywhere near my throat", he said quietly and menacingly. Then he took hold of Vicente's sword and cast it aside. It clanged as it hit the floor and slid away from them. Vicente wasn't sure what to think of all this. Before he had had time to think at all, Lucien had thrown him on the bed and was now kneeling on top of him, smiling his pitiless smile and holding his wrists tight so that Vicente noticed to be held in place – he could've fought himself free but he didn't do it. He wasn't sure if he should have done it.

Then Lucien drew out his dagger and threatened Vicente with it.

"Don't move", he said in a low, almost seducing voice, and took a rope from the table next to the bed. He cut the rope in two and tied Vicente from his wrists to the head post. While he was at it he held his knee on Vicente's throat so that if the vampire attempted to move, he could be easily suffocated. The ropes were very tight and if there had been much blood flowing in Vicente's veins he might have been worried about its circulation, but there wasn't too much blood left in him anyway.

Lucien was still kneeling on top of the vampire, still smiling and still holding the knife. Vicente wished that he hadn't let him tie him up. If Lucien was feeling homicidal, which wouldn't have surprised him, Vicente would rather have the free use of his hands. And if things were going in the direction he secretly hoped they were, he wished the very same thing. His hands were very dear to him. He liked to be able to use them.

"Well, _brother_", Lucien growled and caressed the blade with his fingers, "are you comfortable?" Vicente didn't answer. What do you answer to that kind of a question in that kind of a situation? Lucien kept on smiling. Then he put the dagger on Vicente's chest and tore his shirt apart with it, carefully and very skilfully. Vicente felt only the light touch of the blade against his skin as the velvet ripped and let the cold air in.

"How unfortunate that you are tied up like that", Lucien said, his eyes flickering mischievously, and tore Vicente's sleeves apart so that the fabric fell off his arms and Vicente discovered his upper body fully exposed. His slow heart was starting to pound faster. Things were going where he had wanted them to go, or so it seemed – he couldn't be sure. It was just as possible that Lucien was merely getting rid of a supposed traitor.

Lucien slid the blade along the vampire's thin torso slowly and securely. Vicente closed his eyes and sighed a very little sigh of pleasure. The blade's cool touch felt so... seducing. Lucien raised the dagger and removed his left glove. He smiled ruthlessly at Vicente as he cut himself slowly in the palm, letting his red, warm blood run and trickle out of the fresh wound. Vicente's eyes were fixed on the wound and he swallowed. Lucien was teasing. Oh, teasing him so cruelly and so magnificently. Lucien wiped the blade on Vicente's chest, slowly and with a cruel smile. The smell of blood seeped in Vicente's consciousness and he held his breath as Lucien held his wounded hand above his face. The blood smelled so sweet, so tempting... it was Lucien's blood, the blood of a man who never gave anything of himself to anyone... and it was so close... The need to taste that blood made him furiously dizzy.

The Speaker's smile broadened as he saw the vampire's breathing picking up pace again. He touched Vicente's cheek so that his blood smeared his pale skin – and increased his mad agony, the lust for blood, the uncontrollable need... Lucien's fingertips were covered in blood and he ran his forefinger gently on Vicente's lips – and the need for blood howled inside the vampire's body and the craving for _his_ blood made it the greater, the craving to get close to _him_. Vicente licked his lips and the blood on them tasted sweeter than any blood had ever before tasted. Lucien's blood was rich, it was full of life, it was intoxicating. It left him yearning for more but at the same time he knew that it could not be – _he_ was the one person in the world Vicente couldn't feast upon.

Lucien let his blood run and placed his hand so close to Vicente's mouth that he was able to lick the substance off it. Lucien smiled as the vampire got lost in a world unknown to everyone else, the dark world of lust and blood and hunger and fulfillment. When Lucien took his hand away Vicente opened his eyes again, and they were full of frustration, need, longing. His lips were red with Lucien's blood and his eyes fixed on the Speaker's hand. He could still taste the glorious flavor of life and power on his tongue and he felt intoxicated.

Lucien knew that the game he was playing was a very dangerous one. To tempt a vampire with one's own blood was foolish to say the least. But he enjoyed it, he enjoyed watching his agony and helplessness. Vicente was as if enslaved to the call of blood and Lucien reveled at the thought that there was nothing the vampire could do about it – not unless he let him.

A moment passed while Lucien was watching the vampire's expression and his painful craving. Vicente couldn't think straight. He didn't know what time it was, he wasn't sure where he was or how he had ended up there – all he knew was a stage of euphoria and that Lucien Lachance was so near him that it began to hurt his heart. Lucien was holding the dagger loosely in his hand. He examined Vicente's eyes and knew that his death was near. He could end his life now. One stab and the Silencer would have one less to kill. But no, something held his hand. He couldn't risk it. And... he didn't really want to. He put the dagger away.

Vicente was still breathing deep and rapidly. Lucien was rather surprised of the effect blood had on him – he knew Vicente well, but his vampire side had been hidden from him. Was that what blood did to him every time? Lucien narrowed his eyes and smiled coolly. Then he took off his robes and was left only with his black trousers and boots. He continued kneeling over the vampire and staring at him with a cold, cold smile. Vicente swallowed. He looked at Lucien and saw that he was muscular – a feature he himself had lost a long time ago – and his skin looked... alive. He was pulsating with life. With warmth. He watched his chest heave as he breathed and Vicente clenched his fists. How he wished to touch him, to feel that life running in his veins, the warmth coming over him... but his hands were and remained tied.

Lucien kept on smiling. Then he bent forward and lowered himself on top of the vampire, but so that he did not touch him. He was poised over him, his face level with Vicente's, and he saw that the vampire was suffering. Lucien's smile widened.

Vicente wanted to howl from all the agony. Why was Lucien tormenting him like that? His chest was so close to Lucien's that he could feel the lively warmth radiating from his skin. He could hear his heartbeats. His strong pulse. And _he_ would not touch him, and he could not touch him. Lucien kept staring at him and smiling all the time. He loved causing him this torment. How frustrating it must be for him... Vicente looked straight into his eyes and examined every feature of his face from the menacing eyes and the cold lips to his dark brows and hair.

"What is it?" Lucien whispered in a low, growling voice as he saw the vampire's pain. He smiled at Vicente, who did not reply. Lucien almost wanted to laugh. After a few agonizing moments he leaned his head forward and brought his lips very close to the vampire's, so close that Vicente thought he was going to go mad. Lucien smelled the faint scent of his own blood on his lips. Then he raised his head again and looked at Vicente with an evil glint in his eye.

"Let's see", Lucien said softly, "how you like biting."

Vicente felt dazed as Lucien's bare chest finally touched his. He was warm, so very warm, and now he could feel his strong heart beating. Lucien pressed his lips on Vicente's neck, as Vicente had done so many times before to so many people. Lucien was no vampire and could not suck whatever little blood was left in Vicente, but he could cause some impressive bruising. And Vicente gasped as Lucien bit him, not gently nor carefully, but rather brutally. Yet Vicente didn't feel fear or considerable pain, for something in his mind prevented that. All he knew was that Lucien's mouth touched his skin and that feeling he could not describe to himself.

Finally Lucien raised his head and left Vicente's skin bruised and even broken at some parts. The vampire stared at him and was breathing fast. Lucien had felt his breath change its pace while he had been biting him.

"Charming, was it not?" Lucien jeered silently and smiled yet again. He straightened himself a little and noticed that the blood he had wiped on Vicente's chest had also transferred on his own chest. He ran his fingers through the stain on his skin and then did the same on Vicente's, which made the vampire hold his breath and close his eyes. And Lucien smiled. His fingers ventured on Vicente's sides and stomach, and when he moved them on his chest again he scratched it feeling a rush of delight. Vicente breathed out and sighed, not looking at him but keeping his eyes closed as if everything depended on it.

"_Kiss me"_, Vicente thought fiercely. It had been forever since he had kissed someone. He wanted to feel Lucien's lips on his, wanted it so badly. Lucien, however, took the dagger from the table and slid it gently across the vampire's torso, ending up by his belt. And he cut the belt in half and tore the cloth of his trousers. The dagger fell on the floor and Vicente felt his cold hand moving on his thigh.

And Vicente gasped as Lucien showed him what his cold murderer's hands were capable of. Vicente's breathing became extremely rapid and inconsistent, and his cooled blood rushed in his body as it had done centuries ago. As the blood ran from his head he felt dizzy again, powerless, and still... he felt stronger, and yet so helplessly weak, a slave to that cold man whom he had known as a friend and a Brother for a long time. But brotherhood was cast aside, and friendship manifested itself only in his mind and memory – this night was something completely different. To Lucien's immense satisfaction and amusement a moan escaped Vicente's lips and the vampire writhed in his binds, unable to move.

Too soon Lucien let go and resumed his position above him, staring at him with that familiar smile. Vicente was dazed with euphoria, he couldn't speak, he couldn't even breathe properly, he couldn't open his eyes. More than anything he wanted to have his hands freed for the frustration of it all was surely going to kill him.

"Release me", Vicente gasped amidst his breaths. "Please."

Lucien raised his brows and looked at the writhing vampire.

"I never thought you'd descend to begging", Lucien said quietly and mercilessly. Vicente clenched his fists and didn't care.

"Please", he gasped again. Lucien smiled so that his teeth could be seen – or would have been seen if Vicente had looked. After a little while the vampire opened his eyes and met Lucien's gaze. The Speaker bent his head close to Vicente's ear and whispered softly "_No_". And he ran his fingers down Vicente's chest and placed his cold hand on his abdomen.

Vicente felt his heart beginning to pound within his chest with ever rising power. The blood had nurtured him and Lucien had excited him, and he couldn't stand the situation any longer. He wanted to be able to do something, to give a response, to touch. And all that Lucien had denied him. Suddenly Vicente felt a rush of power inside him, and that power gave him the strength to break free from the bindings. The rope snapped and before Lucien had had time to do a thing, Vicente had grabbed him and thrown him on the bed just like he had been thrown a while ago.

The surprise in Lucien's eyes was clear and Vicente saw it. Lucien wanted to be in control. He wanted to subdue everyone, no matter what the situation was. He wanted to be in charge, and all of a sudden he discovered himself being the subdued one, the passive side. That is why he had introduced the rope in the first place, although now he started to wish he had used chain.

When all that was rushing in Lucien's mind, Vicente was holding him down beneath him and preventing all movement, pinning him on the bed by his wrists. Vicente, being a vampire, was strong. Stronger than Lucien had guessed. And seeing the surprise in Lucien's eyes was thrilling, it was new, it was enchanting. And Vicente realized that he was in charge now, and so he pressed his lips on Lucien's and kissed him.

It had been long, very long since the last time he had kissed, and therefore he made the most of it. His kiss was consuming, it was powerful, it was enduring. Lucien was slightly taken aback by it and soon he noticed that breathing was getting hard. Vicente kept on kissing him, hungrily, savoringly, and Lucien tasted his blood on the vampire's lips. He was beginning to run out of air. Vicente wouldn't let him go. He couldn't move, he couldn't fight back, he was frozen to his place. And Vicente showed no mercy. Suddenly Lucien felt young, inexperienced. For the first time he truly understood how old the vampire was and he felt like all his own years had melted away and he was now lying helplessly under Vicente like a foolish young lad.

When the vampire finally stopped he left Lucien gasping for breath. He felt suffocated, exhausted, and yet oddly content. It was a mixture of thrill and weariness, and as he was trying to steady his breathing Vicente kissed his chest and made it the more difficult. The vampire licked all the blood from the Speaker's chest and felt that intoxicating sensation coming over him again. Afraid of what it might lead to he kissed Lucien once more.

Lucien had hardly recovered from the vampire's first, consuming kiss, but Vicente didn't give him time to relax. It felt as if he was draining the very strength of his limbs with his kiss, the power to resist. Lucien stopped fighting back simply because he couldn't anymore – he had not the energy. And when the vampire finally lifted his head, Lucien could do nothing but try to breathe. Vicente loosened his grip on Lucien's wrists and left him free to move, and yet he didn't do so. The vampire smiled gently at him and kissed his way down his chest to his stomach and belt. Unlike Lucien, he did not tear the belt but opened it gently and quickly. Lucien was still trying to catch his breath, and at the same time he managed to wonder where his strength had gone. He hated being weak and unable to have an effect on things. And what Vicente was doing to him didn't help his breathing one bit.

Vicente could hear Lucien's racing heart and his heavy breathing, his gasps now and then. He could hear the pounding of his heart in his head, and it drowned all other sounds under it. The vampire sensed only the rushing of blood in Lucien's veins, the heavy beats of his heart, the enchanting rhythm. He wanted it to get louder, stronger, faster – he needed to hear it beating like it had never beat before. Lucien might not have agreed to this, but he had no choice. He was too consumed to fight back and too thrilled to try.

At last Vicente came level with Lucien and stared him nonchalantly in the eyes. Lucien was still breathing fast but looking back with flaming eyes. And he saw Vicente's red eyes gleam and his vampire fangs protruding slightly from his half open mouth. Lucien was getting nervous again. The game he had played had turned against him. Vicente had the power, he had tasted the blood, and he was strong. And Lucien couldn't stand it. He tried to gather his strength enough in case the vampire tried to do something...

Vicente saw the defiant nervousness in the Speaker's eyes and smiled a bit – not coldly and cruelly like Lucien, but softly and calmly. And yet the call of Lucien's blood was strong. His heartbeats were still pounding in his ears and the taste of blood lingered on his lips. His eyes darted at Lucien's neck. Lucien noticed this and clenched his fists – and was glad to realise he had the strength for it. Vicente bent his head and was about to press his lips on Lucien's neck again but, like before, Lucien stopped him and this time he rolled over so that Vicente was once again underneath him. Lucien was breathing heavily and holding his hand on the vampire's throat. Vicente stared at him.

And Lucien stared back. He had control again. Yet it felt different. Less triumphant. He loosened his grip and took his hand off. Vicente kept looking at him and Lucien got off him and lay beside him on the bed. Vicente's eyes followed him, but he was looking at the ceiling now. The vampire kept staring at him.

Lucien felt Vicente's eyes on him but didn't look back. He thought about what had just happened and what he was going to do now. _Nothing_, he thought. _There was nothing to do._ Nothing could be done – Vicente would die tomorrow and he would remain loyal to the Black Hand. He had no regrets. All he had done he had done because he had wanted to. There was nothing to regret.

But they were going to die and this was the last time Lucien was going to see Vicente, he knew it. And he turned his head and looked into the vampire's eyes. This time he wasn't smiling. Nor was he angry or nervous. His expression was altogether blank, though Vicente was sure he saw sadness and perhaps, dare he think of it, affection in the depths of his gaze.

Lucien got up. It was getting chilly. He got dressed and didn't look at the vampire, who figured that it was time for him to leave while it was still night. The meeting was over. It was indeed getting very cold. He removed the rope from his hands and looked at his completely torn clothing. All of a sudden an old grey robe was tossed on the bed. Vicente turned to look at Lucien, who was standing his back to him and tying his hair on a better knot. Vicente clad himself in the robe and gathered his own clothes from the bed. Then he went to pick up his sword from the corner it had slid to.

Vicente was ready to go but he hesitated. He turned towards Lucien, who was still not looking at him. Not coming up with anything to say, Vicente turned to leave.

"Brother", Lucien said in a low voice and made Vicente turn on his heels and walk towards him. Lucien turned to face him and this time Vicente was absolutely sure there was sadness in his eyes.

"Goodbye", Lucien said quietly. Vicente swallowed and bowed his head a little.

"Goodbye", he said softly and turned his back on the Speaker and left Fort Farragut knowing in his heart he would not see Lucien Lachance again.


End file.
